


this is home

by fevermachine



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Family Bonding, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Stangst, both dipper and stan are trans guys, not heavily important to the fic but very important to me, stan canonically has fibromyalgia and I'll die on this hill if I have to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 17:44:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21122747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fevermachine/pseuds/fevermachine
Summary: Occasionally, Stan will look down at his legs and see the scars, scattered across his thighs like so many freckles.They don’t bother him anymore, which is nice. He no longer feels the need to dig into his skin and release whatever’s hiding there. It’s strange to finally feel at home in his own body. Top surgery and a stable living space will do that to a guy, he supposes.//A fic about Stan's history with self harm and what happens when his family becomes aware of it.





	this is home

**Author's Note:**

> the sections in italics are flashbacks, and contain depictions of self harm. if you think they're gonna trigger you at all, feel free to skip them!
> 
> this piece is dedicated to my roommates albee and leo, who thankfully put up with my constant yelling about Stan Pines. love u boys

Occasionally, Stan will look down at his legs and see the scars, scattered across his thighs like so many freckles. 

They don’t bother him anymore, which is nice. He no longer feels the need to dig into his skin and release whatever’s hiding there. It’s strange to finally feel at home in his own body. Top surgery and a stable living space will do that to a guy, he supposes. Unfortunately, the fact that he feels at home in his body means he’s not very diligent about hiding the scars anymore. Mabel notices them first. She’s always been an observant kid. Smart, too. She takes after him. 

“Grunkle Stan, what happened?” She points at them, practically exuding twelve year old innocence. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her the truth. 

“Ah, I got into some scuffles years ago, pumpkin. It’s nothing you gotta worry about.” He ruffles her hair affectionately and gives her his most reassuring smile. 

Mabel squints at him, not entirely convinced, but decides to let it slide. “If you say so! Was it Grunkle Ford’s fault?”

Stan thinks about nights on the road. 

“Nah, sweetie. Ford’s fine,” he says. “I got myself into that situation.”

***  
Stan draws a line into his skin, sharp and fast. He doesn’t do it evenly- can’t afford to, because if he cuts rhythmically then he’ll realize how stupid he’s being. No self respecting person harms themselves, especially not one who’s already hanging onto life by a thread. 

He slumps against his car window and looks out at the highway he’s parked beside. Ignorant to his plight, the cars rush by, occasionally shaking the El Diablo when they drive too close. His leg starts to sting. Stan glances down and realizes that he’s cut a little deeper than he meant to. He doesn’t have any bandages, so he just yanks his pants back up over his boxers. They’re already bloodstained, anyway. No one will think anything of it.

***  
The next morning, Stan wakes up to a bright pink sticky note on his bedroom door. He squints at it, trying to make out the message, then realizes he doesn’t have his glasses on.

“Ah, stupid,” he mutters, pushing the plastic frames up onto his face. The world slowly slides into focus. After blinking the rest of the sleep out of his eyes, Stan tries to read the sticky note again. This time, he fails because he’s too far away from it. Curse his stupid old man eyesight.

Stan groans and steels himself for the hell that is getting out of bed. Everything in his body hurts all the time, but mornings are when it’s the worst. The doctors he went to see once told him it was fibromyalgia. Stan just knows his body’s out to get him. After about ten or so minutes of trying and failing to move, he finally forces himself to sit up. His joints scream in protest, but Stan ignores them, choosing instead to head over to the door and figure out what the hell is going on with the sticky note.

Upon closer inspection, the sticky note is definitely Mabel’s doing. Stan can tell that just from the copious amounts of glitter the little piece of paper contains. The sticky note also holds a doodle of a cat and a message that reads, Keep up the good work! You’re doing PURR-fect! in Mabel’s curly handwriting.

Damn it, she must have Googled what scars like his meant. Curse kids and their grasp on technology. Still, it’s cute. Stan takes the sticky note and puts it in the top drawer of his nightstand.

***  
It’s not like he hasn’t been tempted to do it again. Stan’s more stable now than he was, sure, but there’s something about self-harm that he misses. Maybe it’s the controlled aspect, or the fact that the pain feels more real than anything else in his life at the moment. He doesn’t do it, though, because he has tours to lead and a new business to run. He doesn’t have time for selfish things. 

When he gets dressed every morning, though, he deliberately ignores catching the eye of the man in the mirror.   
***  
He’s getting ready to make the kids dinner- nothing fancy, just some matzo ball soup he’d been craving. Ford found the recipe in his things somewhere, and Stan had been dying to try it out ever since. 

He’s about ready to cut up some vegetables for the soup when Dipper stumbles into the kitchen, clutching a journal in one hand and excitedly gesturing with the other. 

“-so I’m gonna go out into the woods to figure it out, Grunkle Stan! Isn’t that-“ Dipper trails off just as Stan reaches for a knife from the knife block. 

“Uh, Grunkle Stan, are you sure you don’t want help making dinner? I can chop onions for you.” Dipper says anxiously. Stan just laughs and picks up the knife. 

“I’m good, thanks. Don’t want your weird pre-teen vibes all over my food.” He goads jokingly. Dipper, surprisingly, doesn’t take the bait. Normally he’s all up in arms about how adult he is, but Stan’s jokes apparently aren’t doing much for him today.

“No, I mean it- I can totally cut that for you!” In fact, to show how eager he is to cut the damn onion, Dipper gingerly grabs the handle of the knife Stan’s holding and tries to take it away from him.

Stan sighs. He knew something was up. “Dipper, are you okay? You don’t need to worry about me not being able to cut an onion- I’ve been doin’ this for years, kid. It’s not exactly rocket science.”

He grins to himself at the joke- he actually knows rocket science now, sort of, thanks to Ford’s dumb ass. 

Dipper looks up with him with wide, worried thirteen-year old eyes. “Grunkle Stan,” he says, “What if you hurt yourself?” His voice shakes a little at the end of the question. Hurriedly coughing into his fist, Dipper tries to play it off as a voice crack, but Stan knows what someone holding back tears looks like. He’s done that himself, plenty of times.

Dipper’s clearly been talking to Mabel. This in and of itself isn’t surprising, but Stan still feels twin stings of embarrassment and concern upon realizing what his great nephew is concerned about. Looks like Mabel hadn’t informed Dipper that Stan’s scars were from a long time ago.

“Ah, bud,” he mutters, and lets go of the knife. Dipper hurriedly puts it back into the knife block, as if the stupid thing’s gonna move on its own and stab Stan. Putting his cooking on hold for the moment, Stan goes and sits down at the cluttered kitchen table. After a moment, Dipper joins him.

“Listen, kid.” He pauses, trying to figure out the easiest way to reassure the worried thirteen year old. “I’m sure your sister told you about the, uh, scars.”

Dipper nods rapidly. 

“So, you know what they are?” He’s just probing the waters at this point, making sure he won’t freak Dipper out if he utters the words ‘self harm.’

Again, a nod. Okay, Stanley, he tells himself. You can just say it.

“When- when I did stuff like that-” he stops himself, then starts the sentence over. “I gave myself those scars at a really bad time in my life, kid, and I’m doing a lot better now. You an’ Mabel don’t need to be scared about ‘em, okay?” He can feel his old accent slipping back in, like it usually does when he’s emotional.

Instead of looking reassured, though, Dipper still just looks sad. His head is bent, and he’s looking down at his lap like it holds the secrets of the universe. Stan just gives it a minute. He doesn’t wanna be pushy, and besides, he’s not too great with emotions.

After a moment, Dipper takes a deep, shaky breath and puts a hand into his vest pocket. It comes out holding a dinky little pocket knife similar to those Stan recently stocked in the gift shop. In fact, it’s the exact same- there on the polished wooden side of its handle is the Mystery Shack logo. Without saying anything, Dipper lets the knife fall onto the table. He’s still staring at his lap, so all Stan can see is his hat.

“Oh, Dipper.” Stan almost can’t believe it. He feels a tightness in his chest that he hadn’t been expecting to feel today. “Kid, are you…?” He lets his question trail off, not even daring to ask. He hopes to G-d Dipper’s handing over the knife for any other reason.

Dipper shakes his head, and Stan watches the little blue pine tree on the front move from side to side. “I haven’t done anything yet, but I- I wanted to. M-my dysphoria’s been really bad lately, and I thought that maybe-”

Stan rises from his seat, interrupting Dipper’s sentence. “You okay for a hug?” he asks gruffly.

Dipper nods, and Stan engulfs him in the biggest hug he can without crushing the kid. “Trust me, Dipper, it’s not the right answer. It doesn’t help anything- just makes ya more miserable in the end.” He feels his shoulder grow damp, and Dipper’s body heaves with small, almost imperceptible sobs. “If you need anything, you come talk to me, ya hear? I’ve been through it too, and I can help you find new binders and such.”

Dipper murmurs a tear-soaked, “Okay,” through his sobs, and Stan is content with that for the moment.

***  
The last time Stan cut himself was exactly twenty-five years after Ford fell through the portal. He’d spent all night down in the basement, scouring Ford’s journal for something, anything that would help him bring his brother back. Of course, there was nothing there- there were three journals, after all, and Stan only had the first. He had no idea where Ford had hidden the rest, and he wasn’t even sure where to start looking. He knew they had to be somewhere in Gravity Falls, but given how paranoid Ford had been when Stan had last seen him there was no way he’d be able to find them.

Stan slams his fist against the desk in frustration, startling the framed childhood photo of him and his twin from its precarious position on the table. It falls to the floor with a crash, and shards of glass fly out from the source of impact.

God, he really is such a fuckup. Can’t even avoid breaking a picture frame, much less save his brother from a hell that he’d ended up in because of Stan. With tears welling up in his eyes, Stan starts to pick up the shattered glass. He picks up a relatively large piece, and as he does he’s struck with the sudden urge to slice open his skin. He suddenly feels twenty again, alone on the side of an unnamed highway with a rusty razor blade and nothing to lose.

Good thing he’s in his boxers. Otherwise, he’d have to throw away yet another pair of pants.  
***  
Mabel keeps placing the sticky notes around the house. The bright neon notes read things like We love you! and have a multitude of doodles all over them. The notes don’t always make sense- one time Stan just got one with a doodle of Mabel and Dipper fighting over a huge s’more- but they brighten his day nonetheless. 

The only problem with the sticky notes is that Ford’s started to notice them too, and Ford is notoriously curious. Stan knows his brother well, and as a result knows the sticky notes are gonna bug Ford until he figures out why they’re around. He actually catches Ford writing about the post-its on two separate occasions. Who the fuck takes notes on something they could just ask about? 

Stan never told his twin about the self harm. After all, Ford’s only been back for a bit, and before then there wasn’t much of a chance to discuss it seeing as they were, you know, fighting. Stan likes to think that he would’ve mentioned it if it was still relevant, but deep down he knows he’s scared of Ford’s reaction. Ford was always the logical one, and therefore probably the least likely to get why Stan used to actively harm himself. 

He spends a few stress-laden days tiptoeing around Ford trying to avoid the inevitable before finally biting the bullet and attempting to have the conversation. Well, more accurately, Ford catches Stan lounging in his armchair and flings a series of questions his way. Semantics. 

“Stanley, what’s the deal with the sticky notes? Has Dipper been upset recently?” Ford asks in his usual brusque tone. “Do I need to sit down and chat with him?”

He pauses and scratches his head, a confused look crossing his face. “Wait, is that even something great uncles do? I’m afraid I’m not totally well versed in the behavior of young teens nowadays.”

“I coulda told you that without you even asking, Sixer,” Stan laughs. He follows the chuckle with a hurried sip of his Pitt Cola, determined not to address the notes unless he has to. 

“Listen, it’s not my fault I got stuck in multiple dimensions for years on end-“

Stan gives him a look. 

“Okay,” Ford acquiesces, “It’s not entirely my fault that I don’t quite remember Earth norms due to being elsewhere. Sorry, Stan.” He gives Stan a smile, as if to reestablish the fact that they’re cool now. Stan, of course, grins back. 

Even though Ford can be painfully oblivious at times, Stan’s incredibly happy to have his brother back. It had been a long thirty years without him, and it was nice to have someone who unequivocally had his back again. Despite all their troubles, his brother was pretty great.

“Stanley,” Ford says, jolting him out of his reverie. “The notes?”

Right. The damn notes. Time to pull some form of an explanation out of his ass. “Listen, Sixer, I’m sure they’re nothing. You know Dipper’s an anxious guy, maybe Mabel’s leaving them around to help him with that. There’s no real reason to worry as far as I’m concerned.” 

Tragically, Ford’s been back long enough to call Stan out on his bullshit. Now it’s his turn to give Stan a pointed look. “I’ve seen the notes on your door, Stanley. I don’t actually think they’re for Dipper.”

Stan starts to protest, then realizes Ford probably just said that to rope him into the conversation. Seriously, the guy has too many brain cells. There’s no real point in trying to explain the whole situation to Ford like he did to Dipper and Mabel, so Stan just says it straight out.

“Fine, fine. Okay, you caught me. Mabel’s started leaving me notes cuz she noticed the scars on my legs and found out I used to self harm. She’s been doin’ it to cheer me up, I think, even though I haven’t done that in years.” As he speaks, Stan specifically doesn’t make eye contact with Ford, instead choosing to stare at the muted television. He feels like he’s ten again and admitting to spilling soda all over Ford’s favorite composition notebook.

He expects Ford to say something along the lines of oh, okay, that explains it and for that to be the end of it. 

“Oh, Stanley,” Ford says instead, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” His voice is uncharacteristically hushed, as if he’s worried that Stan will snap like a twig if he speaks too loudly. Which, weirdly enough, Stan feels like he might actually do. He hadn’t realized just how emotional this conversation would make him.

Ford moves to sit by the chair and puts a hand on Stan’s arm. “Why did you do it?” he asks.

Stan sighs heavily. He still doesn’t feel like he can make eye contact with his brother. “Y’know, I always thought I was the dumb kid. Pa always told me I was worthless an’ good for nothing, and I guess I kinda internalized it.” He laughs bitterly. “Not that daddy issues excuse it, I know it was stupid.”

“It was,” Ford replies, “but it’s also understandable, Stan. I- I’m sorry I wasn’t a better brother to you. I could have stopped this, I know you didn’t mean to-”

Stan cuts him off with a wave of his hand. “It’s alright, Poindexter, don’t beat yourself up over it. I think it woulda happened no matter what. Apparently trauma does that to a guy sometimes.”

Ford chuckles lightly. “I suppose it does. Still, I wish I could have helped somehow.”

“Eh, we can’t change the past, Sixer. Just gotta work on the present, and in the present I’m doin’ alright.” Stan smiles at his brother reassuringly. “Haven’t touched a blade like that in years, actually.”

“You actually can change the past!” Ford says excitedly. “Actually, if I could get my hands on a time travel device, I could-”

Stan’s never actually witnessed a lightbulb go off above someone’s head until this moment. It’s exactly as cliche as it sounds.

“Aren’t you always going on about paradoxes? I’m pretty sure that’d cause a fuckin’ huge one,” he remarks, and Ford sighs.

“Maybe so, but it would be worth it to me. I don’t want to see my brother hurting, even if that hurt happened long ago.”

Stan punches lightly at his twin’s arm. “I could say the same for you. We’ve both been through hell and back, huh?”

“I suppose so. Doesn’t mean we can’t hope for better, though.” Ford smiles.

“True that.” Stan opens his mouth to say something else, but Dipper storms into the room yelling about science and the moment is lost to nerd talk.

Stan rolls his eyes at Dipper and Ford, who are losing their minds over something Dipper found outside the Shack. Mabel enters a few minutes later and excitedly shows him a drawing she’s working on for Ford, which Stan compliments her on extensively. Not for the first time this summer, he feels genuine joy bloom in his chest.

It’s nice to have a family again.

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what you think! I had a lot of fun writing this piece. 
> 
> [here's my gravity falls tumblr if you wanna scream about stan with me](http://dykestanpines.tumblr.com)


End file.
